


Midnight Run

by Exdraghunt



Series: Steel bodies, Human Hearts [4]
Category: Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Ghost Train, Multi, Non-binary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Engines have been hearing and seeing strange things at night. Is there a monster on the island? And does it have anything to do with the new engine from America?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New story time. Seems like all the cool kids have OCs, so I decided to make one of my own. Also wanted to answer the question "what if there was an actual ghost on the island."

It was before dawn in the early spring on the Island of Sodor, and all across the island engines and humans alike were asleep in their homes. All engines, that is, except for Percy the little green tank engine. Instead of being in Tidmouth sheds with the other engines, Percy was out with his morning mail run. It was his job to make sure that everyone got their letters and packages before the day started.

Percy usually enjoyed his job, reveling in the early morning quiet and the emptiness of the rails before the sun rose above the horizon. Sometimes, though, it was a little scary. In the dark, mundane things often looked more frightening than they really were. Haystacks could grow eyes and jaws, or laundry left hanging become spooky ghosts.

That particular morning, however, everything was good and right with the world as Percy chuffed through the countryside. He had finished his run and was making his way back towards Tidmouth, and he had definitely not seen any monsters or ghosts that morning. Or even anything he thought was a monster. Though the forests could be scary at night, the only sounds were the normal noises of the island wildlife. 

There weren’t any towns or station along this part of the tracks, only the occasional farmhouse among the stands of trees. Suddenly, from far off in the distance, Percy heard a strange sound. He slowed down, a frown flitting across his face as he tried to place it. He had been spending more time learning about the animals of the forest from Henry so that he would be able to indentify the sometimes frightening vocalizations of owls and foxes. But this was like the screaming of an animal mixed with some kind of roaring cry, and Percy had never heard anything like it before. 

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” The green tank engine muttered as he sped back up and tried to hurry faster back to the shed, “there’s no such thing as monsters.”

The sound came again, closer this time, and Percy thought he saw a black shape moving through the trees. There was another set of tracks over there, long abandoned, but there weren’t any lights to indicate it was another train. Any sense of rational thinking flew out of the engine’s smokebox and he gave a frightened cry as he raced off down the track heading towards Tidmouth sheds. 

Blowing his whistle in fear, Percy didn’t even bother to stop to drop off his mail trucks or get turned around on the turntable. He just raced face first into his stall until he hit the buffers at the back of the shed. 

In the next stall over, Edward jerked awake suddenly at the sound of Percy’s shrill whistle and frowned when he heard the thump of buffers on buffers. He had sincerely hoped that they had finally gotten past the running and screaming from scary things in the dark. At least it didn’t sound like anyone else had awoken, though there was some sleepy grumbling from Gordon’s stall. “Percy? What happened?”

“I heard something,” Percy whispered. He was quite aware that he had given the other engine a rude awakening, and was thankful that it was Edward and not James or one of the other big engines. “Like a big animal roaring or screaming. Then I saw something, like a black shape. There’s something out there.”

“There’s nothing out there that you haven’t seen before.” Edward said gently. “You know how your eyes can play tricks on you when it’s dark like this. And things can sound scarier at night, like animals in the woods. There’s no such thing as monsters.”

“Well I heard something.” Percy pouted. He didn’t like being told that he was imagining things, but he also had great respect for Edward’s age and experience. 

“Hnn, monsters?” James stirred in the stall next to Edward, having been roused by the conversation. “What monsters? Percy, did you see something again?”

“I heard something.” Percy said reluctantly, much less willing to talk to James about his encounter. “Like some kind of scream or roar. But not like any human or animal I’ve ever heard before.”

“Oh, Percy, not again.” James rolled his eyes. “It was probably just an owl or something.”

“Either way,” Edward stated with a tone of finality. “It is late and none of us should be up. I say we all go back to sleep and discuss it more when the sun comes up.”

James snorted, but closed his eyes and was almost instantly back asleep. Edward soon followed, but Percy couldn’t find sleep. He kept thinking about the sound he had heard, and knew that he hadn’t just imagined it. Something was out there. 

 

The next evening found Henry taking the Flying Kipper across the island on his usual weekly run. He had been taking the fishy train for many years, and by now considered the late night run routine. The curse of the Flying Kipper seemed to have exhausted itself on him years before and he hadn’t experienced an accident with it in a long time. 

Having finished delivering his cargo to Barrow, Henry turned around and returned to Sodor with his empty trucks. Yawning, all he could think of was getting back to his nice, warm stall in the shed when he heard an odd sound in the distance. 

It was faint, and sounded a little like a hoarse cry. Henry frowned and slowed a little, focusing his attention on the thick woods around him. Was there an animal in distress somewhere? 

The sound came again, closer this time, and Henry knew it was no animal. Though it was a little like roar or scream, Henry knew all of the wildlife on the island and none of them could make a noise like that. It could only be the monster that Percy had heard the night before. 

With a frightened whimper, Henry sped up and focused on getting back to Tidmouth. The trucks could be returned to Brendam in the morning, when whatever was lurking in the dark had gone. 

 

The next morning, the “monster of Sodor” was the talk of Tidmouth sheds. Henry’s encounter had added a little credence to Percy’s story, but the fact that the two engines on the island most notorious for being terrified of everything were the only ones that had heard it meant that there was still plenty of room for doubt. 

“There could be something out there.” James commented as he and Edward rolled along the Mainline towards Wellsworth. The Fat Controller had very kindly assigned the red engine a daily passenger train from Wellsworth station so that the couple could have a little time together. Every morning, the two made their way from Tidmouth down the mainline and often discussed the current gossip news. 

“I don’t know,” Edward was a firm skeptic when it came to things like monsters. Though he had experienced the paranormal a time or two in his long life, never had he seen anything on the island that couldn’t be explained rationally. Ghost and monster scares only ever caused chaos and never turned up anything actually supernatural. “Things can sound strange at night. Maybe it’s just the wind whistling through something, or even an escaped animal of some sort. Henry is a kind engine, but he can sometimes blow things out of proportion.”

“You can say that again.” James muttered. “Well, I’m still not going out at night for a while.”

Edward just laughed. “There’s nothing out there that wasn’t there the last hundred times you’ve gone out at night. Just keep your wits about you; things don’t have to be supernatural to be dangerous at night.”

James looked over at his partner, cringing a little at the sight of the blue engine’s blind eye. That was very true, perfectly ordinary things could be plenty dangerous in the dark.

Several days went by without any more sightings of the monster, and it quickly faded from the grapevine in favor of other news. Petty thefts had been plaguing several stations on the island, and all the engines had been asked to keep an eye out for suspicious people. The engines took to this new task with great eagerness, but they didn’t have much idea of what exactly constituted “suspicious” and the only result was numerous false alarms. Whatever thief was hitting the stations continued on unseen. 

In the early morning hours, James grumbled unhappily as he stopped at a station. He at least wasn’t pulling the Flying Kipper, instead the red engine had been asked to take a coal delivery for the heating boilers in the stations across the island. Fish weren’t involved, but James still hated pulling trucks. He especially hated pulling trucks in the wee hours of the morning when most respectable engines were sleeping. 

Leaving the station, James’ thoughts were focused on returning to the shed when he heard something. It wasn’t a cow, or a horse, or even a buck in rut. This was something different. It was almost like a steam whistle, but deeper and harsher than any James had heard before. There was an animalistic quality, but like no animal on Sodor. 

James didn’t stick around to see what horrible creature might have made the noise and rushed back towards Tidmouth, blowing his whistle in fright. Needless to say, the coal did not get delivered that morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC introduction time! Sorry to make the chapter kind of OC-centeric, but I wanted to get the introduction/backstory crap out of the way so that I can get back to plot-related stuff for chapter 3. And yes, the character uses "They/Them" pronouns. Why? Because OCs are supposed to be shitty self-inserts. It makes it more fun. I also need more practice writing non-binary characters. 
> 
> For the curious: no my OC is not an expy of any real-life steam locomotive.

The following afternoon, the Fat Controller gathered a number of his engines together at Knapford station. Everyone sat at the platforms chatting excitedly about what reason they might have been summoned to the station. Obviously, some kind of announcement was being made, that was usually the only reason why so many engines would be brought together to the island’s largest station.

“Do you think it’s about the monster?” Henry wondered, sitting on a track facing Gordon at one of the far platforms.

Gordon snorted dismissively, “I doubt it. There isn’t any monster.”

“I heard something,” Henry said defensively. He had been arguing on and off with Gordon on this subject all day. “I’ve pulled the Flying Kipper for a long time and this wasn’t anything I’d ever heard before.”

“Remember the Flatbeds of Fear?” Gordon sighed when Henry just frowned at him for bringing up that particular event. “Look, I don’t doubt that you heard something, but there are no monsters.”

It was clear that neither party was going to be swayed in their opinion, but fortunately the two were interrupted by the arrival of the Fat Controller.

“Attention everyone,” The engines fell silent as Sir Topham stepped up onto a crate to address the assemblage. “I have an important announcement to make. I have gathered you all here together because we have a new engine here on the island, and I would like you all to give them a friendly greeting.”

Excited chatter broke out again at the statement. A new engine on the island? They hadn’t gotten a new mainline engine in several years. Speculation flew wildly. Would the new engine be a steamie or a diesel? Big or small, nice or mean, tank or tender?

A chuffing sound drew everyone’s attention down the track as a black shape rounded the bend and steamed to a stop in front of the station. The new engine was large and streamlined, like Connor and Caitlin. But unlike the two big American engines, this one was painted a glossy black from dome to fender. The only colored livery was in the form of a dark green and cream wing decoration that stretched down the engine’s sides.

“Everyone,” The Fat Controller gestured grandly at the new engine, “meet Skookum.”

The gathered engines all blew their whistles in greeting, but when the new engine blew their whistle in response it shocked everyone else into silence. The whistle was deep and hoarse, more like the cry of an angry bear than anything the engines had ever heard before.

Oblivious to their shock, Skookum simply gave a friendly smile. “Klahowya sihks! Naika nem Four Aces, keschi konaway tilikum wawa naika nem Skookum.”

Now everyone was silent for another reason. Whatever the new engine had said, it wasn’t a language any of them knew.

Edward was the first to recover, always kind and welcoming to newcomers. “Hello, Skookum. Welcome to Sodor. Um, I’m afraid we don’t speak. . . whatever language it is that you know. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” Skookum flushed red a bit, “I’m sorry. I should have known that you wouldn’t know Chinook Jargon. Anyway. I’m Skookum, pleased to meet you.”

“As you all know, we have been experiencing increased passenger traffic lately,” The Fat Controller had been pondering over this issue for months. Not only was Sodor experiencing an increase in population, but there was also a higher and higher proportion of people commuting to the mainland for work. The island’s tough terrain meant that the road infrastructure was fairly poor, and there was no connection to the mainland for vehicles, so more pressure was put on the railway for more frequent, reliable passenger service. “Skookum is here to pull express service to the mainland for commuters.”

There was an angry sputter from Gordon, “But sir, I pull the express!”

“Skookum is not replacing you,” The Fat Controller said patiently, having anticipated this reaction from the big blue engine, “You will be running different schedules with different stops. This is simply to supplement the Wild Nor’wester. Skookum will have the green coaches, and you will be taking the red express coaches.”

“But the green ones are my coaches!” It was clear that Gordon was not happy with any part of this arrangement.

“The coaches are exactly the same, just different colors.” Sir Topham sighed, “I’ll discuss this with you later, Gordon.”

Skookum looked between the two with an expression of confusion, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to steal someone’s job from them.”

“It’s fine,” Edward reassured in a low voice. “Gordon is often like this, he’ll simmer down. Eventually.”

The big, black streamliner didn’t look too sure, glancing at Gordon with worry.

“Anyway,” The Fat Controller continued on with his announcements, “As you all know, Thomas is away on the mainland for a few days for a festival. I have shifted BoCo over to the Ffharquar branch line with Annie and Clarabel while he is gone. Edward, I would like you to take BoCo’s usual goods trains so Skookum can take your passenger runs and get familiar with the island.”

“Yes sir,” Edward didn’t particularly like the idea of giving over his passenger runs, they were much more fun than goods trains, but knew it would only be for a few days until Thomas got back. Plus, the new engine seemed perfectly nice and it wouldn’t be fair to bring them into the island’s usual inter-engine squabbles. There would be plenty of time for that later.

“Now, you all still have work to get to before the day is done. Edward, take Skookum with you to double-head your passenger run. I want them to see the branch line with another engine first. Everyone else, back to your usual work.” And with that, The Fat Controller stepped down from his box.

Slowly, the engines dispersed from Knapford and headed out to tend to their jobs. Edward said a soft goodbye to James before looking over to the new engine. “Alright, Skookum, follow me. I normally take a passenger train from Wellsworth to Brendam this time of day.”

“Okay.” Skookum ran alongside the older engine as they made their way along the mainline to Wellsworth.

“So, Skookum. That’s an interesting name.” Edward commented, trying to make conversation. It was always very exciting to have a new engine on the island, especially another steamie, and he was very curious to know where this new engine was from.

“Oh, is it?” The black streamliner thought that was interesting. It was a very common sort of name where they were from. “Well, I was originally called Four Aces, for my build number. 1111. But then tillikum, uh, everyone started calling me Skookum. It means strong, or dependable. Almost everyone I know had names in Chinook Wawa like that.”

“Chinook Wawa?”

“It’s the language all the engines and ships use where I’m from.” Skookum suddenly seemed to realize they hadn’t actually mentioned where they were from. “Oh! I’m from the Pacific Northwest. Of America, that is. I used to pull a passenger train called the North Coast Limited, from Chicago to Seattle. At least, that’s what I did until the streamlined diesels replaced me." Quickly, their voice grew bitter. "After that, I spent most of my time in Seattle. Until the railway decided I wasn’t needed and sold me.”

Edward knew that downtrodden tone well. Nearly all steam engines who came to Sodor from a mainland railway told a similar story. Well loved and needed until the arrival of diesels, upon which they were no longer useful and sold or scrapped. “You needn’t worry about that here. Most of the railway is still run by steam engines, and the diesels that are here are all very friendly. Well, almost all of them.”

“That’s good.” Skookum might miss home, but they were also very excited to find out more about this new place where steam engines still ruled the rails.

Arriving in the shunting yards at Wellsworth, Edward backed down on the line of coaches first so that Skookum could couple up in front. Though he didn’t particularly enjoy being second, Skookum didn’t have a front coupler and there wasn’t any other choice.

“This is a branch line, so it’s not made for high speeds,” Edward reminded cautiously. He had no idea how fast Skookum was, but judging by the streamliner housing the big engine could probably move pretty quick. “And neither am I. So lets keep a nice, steady pace.”

“Nawitka- I mean. Yes, of course.” Skookum turned a bit red as they slowly led the way out of the shunting yards and to the station platform. It was going to be difficult to remember to use English around these engines.

At Wellsworth station people crowded the platform excitedly, all wanting to get a look at the new engine. It seemed the island’s trainspotters, who always managed to somehow stay on top of the latest news, had gotten wind of Skookum’s arrival and had come out in force with cameras. The stationmaster worked to keep the platform clear so that passengers could board the coaches, but people still pressed close to the engines to get a better look. Most were friendly, asking questions and engaging in casual conversation. Some of Edward’s regular passengers made sure to give him a smile and a wave and a “Hello, Edward, how was your day?” It was a far cry from years past when the passengers mostly ignored the engines that pulled their trains.

Skookum, meanwhile, was a bit overwhelmed by all the attention. Fortunately, they had a crew which had worked on the island for many years and took the crowds in stride. The most frequently repeated comment was “what an odd name” or “how did you get that name?” It greatly confused Skookum, who thought that it was far stranger that all the engines on this island seemed to have human names.

“You’re very popular,” Edward chuckled as they pulled out of the station and switched onto the branch line.

“So I’ve noticed.” Skookum commented, a bit dazed. “Is it always like that around here? Everyone coming around to talk and ask questions?”

“People are just excited because you’re new. The railfans around here can be rather. . . enthusiastic.” Especially for a big, American streamliner that was unlike anything on British rails. “Usually the humans are just friendly. A lot of what we do is commuter runs, especially this time of year before tourist season, so a lot of passengers you see every single day.”

“That will be a change. I mostly did long distance runs, and humans didn’t have time to sit and talk with me.” There would be a lot to get used to.

 

At the end of Edward’s branch line was Brendam docks, a bustling port that never lacked for activity. It was here that passenger trains on the branch line had their final stop, both to service the passenger ships that sometimes called at the port and to provide transportation for the many residents of the coastal city.

Down by the docks, Percy was waiting with a line of empty trucks for Cranky to finish unloading a tramp steamer. He had not been invited to the welcome gathering at Knapford, having been busy with a goods train at the time, and did not know about the new engine on the island. Instead, he was thinking about the mysterious night monster again. He had heard something again the previous night, though it hadn’t been as loud or clear as the first encounter. He was determined to find some kind of proof to show the other engines, though.

Somewhere to the north, the sound of a steam whistle came floating on the wind. A very common noise anywhere on Sodor, so Percy paid little attention to it. The whistle came again, close enough for Percy to identify it as Edward, when it was followed by a deeper noise.

“The monster!” Percy exclaimed. Above him, Cranky made a distressed sound. The harbor crane didn’t particularly like the sound of some big monster wandering around the docks, and the mysterious noise was getting closer.

“Monster?” Porter, ever a rational skeptic, chuffed to a stop and listened, “One of those whistles is Edward, don’t know about the other though.”

“Maybe it’s taken Edward captive. Or attacked him!” Percy’s imagination was plenty capable of supplying terrible scenarios.

Porter frowned, “I don’t know. That sounds a bit more like a steam whistle to me. Like some of the engines back in Brooklyn had.”

“No, I’ve heard that sound before.” Percy insisted, “In the night when I take the mail train. It’s the monster.” And now everyone would see it. Percy trembled on his wheels, but was determined not to run.

Everyone at the docks looked to the east, where the branch line came into the docks, waiting to see what would round the corner. The sound of a steam engine chuffing was audible now, followed by the pleasant tweet of Edward’s whistle once more. But it wasn’t the old blue engine that rounded the corner first. Instead, a huge black shape came into view. Percy was just about to call “Monster!” when he saw Edward behind it and realized it was only a steam engine. A very large, unfamiliar one, but still just an engine.

“There’s your monster, Percy.” Porter said with a chuckle as the passenger train came to a stop to let off passengers. The dock tank engine moved closer to the newcomers. “Hello there, Edward. Who’s your friend?”

“Good afternoon, Porter.” Edward smiled kindly at the smaller engine, “This is Skookum, they’re new to the island.”

“Hello,” Skookum added softly. The black streamliner was a bit distracted by all the hustle and bustle of the port, both on land and at sea.

“Good to meet you. Tell me, was that your whistle back there?” Porter looked up at the larger engine, but couldn’t see the type of whistle they had mounted.

“Probably? Do you mean this one?” Skookum blew their whistle, the sound echoing around the docks. Though the noise was quite loud, it didn’t seem quite as scary here up close.

“That’s your whistle?” Percy commented from down the track, feeling rather embarrassed now. This marked the second time he’d thought a new engine was a monster.

“Well, yes. Why?” Skookum wasn’t sure why there was all this interest in their whistle.

“No reason.”

Edward sighed, he was pretty sure he knew why Percy was asking. “Some engines have been hearing things at night. There was another scare last night, actually. Your whistle might sound a bit like this so-called monster.”

“Oh. I was actually out on the rails last night. Pretty early in the morning, actually, on a quick test run.” Skookum knew their whistle could be a bit surprising, especially when it echoed from a distance, but had never been mistaken for a monster before. “But I only arrived on the island yesterday.”

Well, now Edward could tell James he didn’t have to be scared of some monster anymore. He’d spent most of the morning trying to convince the red engine that there wasn’t anything in the woods out to get him.

Percy, meanwhile, felt validated. Sure, there was an explanation for the night previous. But it still didn’t explain what he and Henry had heard last week. Now, though, it would be harder to convince the others. There had to be proof out there somewhere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Skookum the Streamlined Engine:

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, I wanted to use a real-life engine for Skookum. I eventually decided against it because I really didn't want to feel restricted to trying to accurately recreate a real engine's life. I love streamliners, and I also love the history of the Pacific Northwest. So I went "well, what if there were streamlined steam engines that ran here?" 
> 
> The basic idea is that Skookum was once the "Timken Four Aces," an actual locomotive built in 1930 for the Timken Roller Bearing company. Northern Pacific was using the engine when it suffered crown sheet damage. (IRL, Northern Pacific then bought the engine and put it into regular service until scrapping it in 1957) In the universe of this fic, the engine was then rebuilt into a streamliner and used on Northern Pacific's most prestigious run (the North Coast Limited) until being replaced by diesels. 
> 
> Skookum's whistle is similar to that of the Sp&s 700, which I figure would sound rather shocking to the engines of Sodor, especially at a distance. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rKmr8VDPM4


	3. Chapter 3

After finishing the last passenger train of the day, Edward led Skookum to Tidmouth Sheds to rest. Fortunately, with Thomas gone there was a free stall at the roundhouse for the newcomer. Though, it was a bit of a tight fit. 

“So, did you enjoy your first day on the island?” Edward asked as the larger engine backed slowly into the stall next to him. They were the first ones back at the shed, but it wouldn’t be long before other engines arrived and spoiled the peace and quiet. 

“It was very nice.” Skookum commented, sighing as steam hissed from their pistons and their fire was doused. It had been over a decade since the black streamliner had done a hard day’s work, and though it felt good it was also rather tiring. They were looking forward to a nice, quiet night at the shed. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long to get back into the swing of things. “I liked being by the docks, it reminds me a bit of home. There’s still a lot of steamships here, but none of them were alive. Is that normal? Where I’m from, all the ships I know. Knew. Were alive. They all used to be, at least.”

Edward knew that tone of melancholy, though it was rarely heard on these rails. Engines who had been saved from scrap, or come from defunct mainland railways, sometimes expressed grief at friends that had been lost and a homeland they couldn’t return to. But always at night, when they were alone and the human crews were no longer around. After all, engines weren’t supposed to be able to feel emotions like sadness. They were supposed to be happy to have a job and find joy in their work, not dwell on the past. 

“I’m sorry,” Edward offered. “I know it must be hard, leaving everything behind. Sodor can be a bit. . . hectic. But life here is nice.”

“I know. It just sometimes hurts to remember the past.” Skookum favored the older engine with a small smile. “Mahsie for being so nice to me, Edward. And I’ll admit I’d much rather be here on Sodor than at a scrapyard being dismantled.”

“Well, given those two choices I guess being stuck here listening to the twins bicker isn’t so bad.” Edward tried to stay lighthearted. They had encountered Bill and Ben while down at Brendam docks and Skookum had been greatly amused by the ensuing argument as the two fought over who would take the front of their train and who would take the back. Edward, well used to these kinds of fights, had simply rolled his eyes and waited for the two to sort it out. 

Skookum chuckled at the reminder, a low sound that rumbled the gravel ballast of the shed. Not everything about being here was so bad, that was true. The scenery was beautiful and the engines were. . . interesting. 

Edward felt satisfied he had succeeded in cheering the black engine up, at least. The blue engine looked back out towards the turntable at the sound of another engine approaching and broke into a genuine smile. “James!”

“Hey, Edward,” James greeted his partner warmly, though was a bit surprised to see the blue engine was not alone. “Oh. Hey, Skookum.”

“Kloshe polaklie.” The black streamliner responded in kind. There was an awkward pause before Skookum remembered where they were. “Uh, I mean. Good evening.”

“Riiight,” James backed into the stall next to his partner, giving Skookum a curious look. “So, you mentioned that you were out on the rails last night?”

“Nawitka. I arrived yesterday and Sir Topham wanted me to take a test run. Took awhile to get steam up, so I didn’t get out until after midnight.” It was odd how many engines kept asking about the previous night. Skookum didn’t recall seeing any other engines on the late night run. “Stayed out for a few hours before heading to the steamworks to get checked out. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just curious.” James said it a little too quickly to be convincing, looking pointedly away from the larger engine.

Edward, however, was pretty sure he knew what the red engine was getting at. “Is this about the night monster again? Percy heard Skookum’s whistle today at the docks and thought it was the monster.”

“So maybe last night all I heard was Skookum.” James admitted, pointedly avoiding mentioning how he had heard the whistle of the mysterious “night monster” and run off screaming in a very undignified manner. “Percy still thinks he heard stuff last week, but Percy is always thinking he heard stuff.”

This Edward did not deny, though he wasn’t quite as unkind about the fact. He didn’t like telling Percy the little green engine was imagining things, but the truth was that Percy often claimed to see or hear things that turned out to be completely benign. Henry was much the same, though when he was scared he usually froze where he was and shut down as opposed to running in terror. Unless, of course, it was his hypochondria rearing up instead of just his fear of the supernatural. 

Cutting off that line of thought for now, Edward glanced over to Skookum only to see the black engine looking completely confused. 

“Did I scare someone last night?” Skookum finally asked. Though they knew their whistle could be a bit surprising, there had never been some kind of mass panic from it. 

“No!” James denied a little too quickly. “Just a bit. . . surprised. That’s all.”

“Some of the engines think they’ve been hearing noises at night.” Edward explained with a bit more calm than his partner. “Noises that apparently sound similar to your whistle. They’ve been calling it the night monster.”

“A monster?” Skookum didn’t seem scared or nervous, they actually were intrigued by the idea. “Do you really have monsters here on Sodor? Like Sasquatch?”

“I’m not sure what a Sasquatch is, but we don’t have monsters here.” Edward stated quite firmly, somewhat glad the other engines weren’t around to disagree. “Every time someone thinks there’s a monster, there ends up being a perfectly rational explanation.”

“Last time it was dinosaur footprints.” James added helpfully. Once again, he left out how terrified he had been of said Dinosaur. 

“Oh,” That was rather disappointing. Skookum had been hoping to find an equivalent to the bigfoot hunts they had experienced back home. Not that they ever found anything then either, but Skookum still believed. “Well. Maybe. Maybe it’s not a monster. What if it’s a ghost?”

“A ghost?!” James looked over in surprise. If there was one thing worse than monsters, it was ghosts. 

“Sure. You said it sounded like a whistle, right? What if it’s a ghost train!” Skookum was getting exciting about the idea. Ghosts were almost as interesting as monsters. 

“No need to go that far. I’m sure there’s a completely rational explanation.” Edward shut the idea down before it could escalate. The last thing they needed was for there to be a panic. Well, more of a panic.

Fortunately, a suitable distraction arrived in the form of Emily and Henry returning to the sheds. Emily was especially chatty, turning the evening into an interrogation of poor Skookum. Having a new engine in the shed was a rare opportunity and she wanted to know everything about the newcomer. 

 

Later that evening, none of the engines were still awake to see a dark shape slip into the station at Wellsworth. With the platform deserted, the thief met no opposition except an easily picked lock to gain entry to the closed station. 

Slinking quietly through the rows of empty benches, the thief knelt in front of the office door and was through it almost as easily as the front door. Sad, really, how simple the locks were on this island. The people were far too trusting. 

Now, the only thing left to do was to get into the office safe, where all the money from the day’s ticket sales was kept. This would take a little longer, but it would be hours before anyone arrived for the day. The thief had all the time in the world. 

At least, so he thought. Outside, the Wellsworth Stationmaster pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, unaware that the door had already been opened. It was too dark to see the scratches and damage to the lock. The stationmaster had gone home an hour before, only to realize he had forgotten his wallet on the desk. 

Entering the dark waiting room, the man paused when he saw the door to the office hanging open. A faint sound could be heard coming from inside, and the Stationmaster recalled the notice about the station thefts that had been occurring around the island. Hopefully, it was just a rat and not someone robbing the station.

“Hello?” 

The thief stood in surprise when he heard the hesitant call. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in the station this late. No matter. 

A gunshot echoed around the dark station, shattering the silence of the night, and a shadowed shape slipped out of the station before anyone could come investigate. He hadn’t managed to get his primary objective, but the noise would surely attract unwanted attention. 

Hours later, a more familiar sound filled the platform at Wellsworth station. With the roar of a whistle, a train thundered through the station. The engine was large and black, though any witnesses would’ve been hard pressed to give any more specific details, and behind it rattled a long rake of dark coaches. The whistle blew once more, the sound echoing off the station’s buildings, then as quickly as it had come the train was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

In the early hours of the morning at the engine sheds of Sodor, the only sounds were the scrape of shovels tossing coal into cold fireboxes and the soft whispers of the engine crews going through their morning routine. It always took a little after the fires were lit for the engines to wake up, so everyone worked quietly to bring them up to steam for the day. 

That morning, though, everyone came to attention quickly at the arrival of the Fat Controller. It was rare to have a visit from him this early, he normally didn’t come to the sheds until the engines were up to steam, but the serious look on the portly man’s face indicated he wasn’t here with pleasant news. 

“Engines, crews,” Sir Topham addressed the assemblage from atop one of his many crates, which brought him a little closer to the level of the large steam engines, “I have very grave news. There was an attempted theft at Wellsworth Station last night, and the stationmaster was shot.”

Edward gasped as everyone looked his way. Wellsworth was also often called “Edward’s Station,” since it was at the head of the blue engine’s branch line and he knew it best of all. The stationmaster was, while not crew, still a close human friend. “Sir. Is, is he alright? What happened?”

“The Stationmaster is in the hospital, but he hasn’t woken up yet. We can only hope he recovers from this. It looks as though this was the same thief who has hit the other stations, though this time he was interrupted before he could get into the safe. Please, everyone, keep a close eye out at stations for anyone suspicious. This isn’t just theft anymore, last night was attempted murder.” Sir Topham sighed deeply, more disturbed by recent events than he let on. Sodor was normally a very quiet, sleepy island, the antics of their railway engines aside, and a crime spree like this one was almost unheard of. 

The shooting, however, wasn’t the only topic that needed to be addressed. “Now, I’ve had reports that a late night train came through Wellsworth around three in the morning. That would’ve been not long after the shooting. Who rolled through the station last night?” Though no trains had been scheduled for that time, Sir Topham knew that sometimes the engines got up to late night antics on their own. 

The engines all glanced at each other, confusion on their faces. 

“Wasn’t me,” Gordon grumbled. The big blue engine never missed out on a chance to sleep. “Or Henry.” 

“Well I wasn’t out last night.” James looked around at his fellow engines, “Did anyone go out last night?”

“I was here all evening. I don’t think it was anyone from this shed.” Edward had gone to sleep rather later than usual, having stayed up with James, and everyone had been in their stalls when he had finally gotten to sleep. Was it possible someone had left afterwards? Maybe. But to have picked up coaches and gotten all the way to Wellsworth by three? Unlikely. “Maybe another engine? Did anyone see it?”

“All anyone could tell me was that the engine was large, dark in color, and moving very fast with a rake of coaches behind it.” And it had been hard just to get that much from the few witnesses that had been there to see the quick-moving train roll through Wellsworth. “Most people just reported hearing the whistle. Said it was loud and deep. Like a roaring sound.”

As one, everyone turned to look at Skookum. Big, black, and moving fast with a loud, roaring whistle? Could only be one engine.

“What?” The black streamliner was rather unnerved to suddenly have everyone’s attention turned towards them. “I didn’t go out last night either, I swear. I was here all night.”

“Well then who was it?” James wondered aloud. “What other fast passenger steam engines do we have on the island?”

The answer was there weren’t any. The only other fast passenger engines that regularly visited the island were Caitlin and Conner, but no one would mistake either of them for “dark colored” and there was no reason for them to have even been on the island that time of night. 

“Well keep an eye out, whoever it was might have seen something important.” Sir Topham was well and truly stumped. All his engines knew better than to blast through a station at that time of night making noise, but he had really hoped it had just been one of the residents of Tidmouth Sheds up to some kind of mischief in the night. It would’ve been a lot easier at least. 

 

A mystery was just the kind of fuel that the railway grapevine loved, and before long everyone on the island was talking about their mysterious night visitor. Suspicions ran rampant, but since no one had actually seen this mystery train there weren’t any concrete answers to be had. 

“Maybe it was the Phantom Express,” James cracked to Edward as they made their way to Wellsworth to pick up their morning trains. 

Edward just rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure the only ‘Phantom Express’ on this island was with me all night.”

James grinned. His career as the Phantom Express might be over, but it was still funny to joke about. 

“Phantom Express?” Skookum was following behind the two at a polite distance, but still close enough to hear most of the conversation. “What’s that?”

“The Phantom Express was James trying to scare some other engines by making up a ghost story and then making spooky noises in the dark.” Edward stated before James could come up with another scary tale. “And since James was with me all night, the Phantom Express couldn’t have been our mystery visitor.”

“Could’ve been the real Phantom Express.” James muttered. He hadn’t made the story up completely from scratch, after all. 

“Oh.” Once again, Skookum was disappointed. “There really isn’t someone else it could’ve been?”

“We don’t have too many fast passenger engines on the island.” James only knew of four permanently stationed on the island, and he included himself in that number despite not being anywhere near the same level as Gordon, with another two or three that regularly visited. “And none of them could be described as ‘dark in color.’ Except maybe Emily, but I don’t think she’d go out on the rails in the middle of the night and lie about it.”

“There aren’t many dark colored steam engines at all.” Edward mused. “Donald and Douglas are black. Emily is dark green. There’s you. Oh, and Neville.”

“Only Neville is too ugly to pull coaches.” James said with a laugh. “The twins only pull trucks too. So unless Spencer suddenly decided to paint himself black, we have a mystery visitor on the island.”

“Huh.” Skookum only really understood about half of the conversation, but got the gist of it. First the night monster, now some strange engine roaming the rails at night? Something weird was happening on this island. 

Reaching the shunting yards at Wellsworth, the three engines split up to retrieve their respective trains. James had his daily local, Edward a goods train for Brendam, and Skookum was taking Edward’s normal passenger train. 

With only three coaches, it was the shortest train Skookum had ever pulled. Sure, it had been the same length yesterday, but with Edward there it had seemed much longer. Skookum sighed as they pulled out of Wellsworth station, feeling restricted by the low speeds that the branch line required. As pretty as the island was, it couldn’t compare to pulling a long passenger train through the crown of the Rocky and Cascade Mountains. 

 

Slowing to a stop at the platform at the animal park, Skookum saw how people jumped in surprise at the loud, hoarse whistle that announced the train’s arrival. Was there really a monster or mysterious visitor on the island with a whistle that sounded just like theirs? Here was something much more interesting to contemplate. 

Back home, Skookum had once had a driver that was obsessed with monsters and aliens and government cover ups. The thick forested mountains were full of tribes of Sasquatch, which watched the trains from behind the massive trunks of ancient Douglas Fir and Cedar trees. The human had often pointed them out excitedly, but they were never there when Skookum looked. Always a second too late. Flying saucers also made a home a top Mount Rainier, hiding behind the ever persistent cloud cover. These Skookum had never seen either, but the driver was so insistent in his beliefs that the engine couldn’t help but believe as well. 

If there really was a monster or a ghost on the island, then Skookum was determined to see it this time. No more shadowy shapes out of the corner of the eye. 

When something happened on the island of Sodor, it didn’t take long for word to reach every station and siding on the island. Trains were nothing if not terrible gossips. This meant that when Skookum rolled into Brendam, Salty and Porter somehow already knew exactly what had happened that morning at Tidmouth. 

Seeing the black streamliner roll into the station, Salty chuckled. “Ahoy there, Skookum. I hear you was out getting up to something last night at Wellsworth. Taking a Midnight Express?”

“Kahtah?” Had that story already filtered down across the railroad? “That wasn’t me out on the tracks last night, I swear.”

“Well then,” Salty’s voice dropped into his default ‘scary story’ tone, “Maybe it was the Ghost Train.”

“Ghost Train?” Around them, movement in the docks stopped as engines and trucks turned their attention towards the dockside diesel. Salty’s stories were never something to miss. 

“Aye. They say the Ghost Train rolls the rails at night, an engine of the darkest black with the finest coaches you ever saw. He roams the railway, looking for sinners who’ve done wrong. And when he finds them,” Salty lowered his voice further, a moment of tension that made everyone creep in closer, “He drags their souls to hell!”

Gasps rang across the docks as engines jerked backward. That wasn’t a funny story at all, it was just a scary one. The only engine that didn’t seem frightened was Skookum, who instead rolled forward in interest. “Is there really a ghost train like that?”

Before Salty could respond, Cranky set down a pallet with a thump and made a disapproving sound. “Just ignore him.” The harbor crane advised, “Salty loves scaring engines with his stories.”

Salty just grinned. “Guilty as charged. But you never know, there could be a ghost train.”

No closer to a real answer then. Skookum sighed as passengers boarded their coaches for the return train to Wellsworth. “Well, it’s a good story, Salty. Thanks.”

 

Over the next few days, the island was more subdued than usual as every waited for news on the condition of the Wellsworth stationmaster that had been shot. He had, at least, gotten out of surgery and finally woken up. Unfortunately, the railway employee couldn’t recall anything about the man who had shot him. Only that he had heard something in the office, then a loud bang and nothing. 

Even the thief and the mysterious night visitor appeared to be taking a break, and there hadn’t been any incidents or sightings in a week. The railroad had moved on to other gossip, mostly the absolute fit Gordon had been throwing over Skookum being given ‘his’ green express coaches. 

The red and green coaches really were identical, though the red ones hadn’t seen much use in several years except as occasional backup coaches. The Steamworks had spent a couple weeks repairing the red coaches and bringing them up to the high standards demanded by express service, and they were all in perfect condition. 

Not that Gordon cared about how nice the red coaches were, he had pulled the green coaches as part of the Wild Nor’wester for years and years and wasn’t particularly inclined to give them up without a fight. The other engines just sat back and watched the sparks fly. 

Surprisingly the fight wasn’t actually with Skookum. The black streamliner would be all too happy to give up claim to the green coaches in the interest of avoiding conflict. But the Fat Controller put his foot down. He had put quite a lot of effort into drafting all new schedules for passenger service across the entire island, writing up newspapers ads and announcements for the radio and television informing people of the service changes to their train service, he’d even had some nice looking ads and posters drawn up to go with the new schedule boards going up at the stations. 

As Gordon opened his mouth for yet another complaint, Sir Topham felt himself come to the end of his patience. He didn’t enjoy pulling the ‘I own you and you will do what I say’ card, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice. 

“Gordon, either you go out next Monday and pull the Wild Nor’wester with red coaches, or I will give the job to Henry and you will be taking goods trains for the rest of the summer.”

A low “Ooooooo” ran through the assembled engines and rolling stock that were pretending to not be listening to the argument happening under the awning at Knapford station. That was quite the threat. 

Gordon spluttered in shock and offense. “Sir, you cannot be serious. Me, pulling trucks? Why-“

“Either you pull red coaches or trucks will be the only thing you see for quite a while into the future.” With that, Sir Topham turned on his heel and strode back into his office. Leaving Gordon fuming at the platform. 

Skookum sat two platforms away, watching the fight with a dismayed expression. Steam hissed from Gordon’s cylinders as he started away from the station, shooting the black streamliner a look of absolute hatred. “This is your fault.”

“Sorry,” Skookum whispered, sighing as they started off in the opposite direction. They really didn’t see what was the big deal, coaches were coaches, but clearly this was something that really mattered to Gordon. 

“Don’t worry about that big, blue grump.” Skookum’s driver leaned out the cab and gave the engine’s body a pat. The man had worked on the Northwestern Railway for many years, and knew Gordon’s rather self-centered nature well. “We have to concentrate on where we’re going.”

Driver was right. Earlier that day, Henry had been pulled from his usual passenger run to take over a goods train for an engine that had broken down. Which meant that Skookum had been shuffled from Edward’s branch line to pick up the green engine’s passenger train. It was unfamiliar rail, but at least being on the mainline meant Skookum could pick up some speed. Not too much, as these weren’t high-speed coaches, but it was still a nice change. 

At every station, commuters wondered in surprise at this new engine taking their train. Once again, Skookum found themselves the center of attention from curious passengers and onlookers asking questions and wanting photos. It was a nice distraction, at least, from thinking about Gordon. 

 

It was late evening by the time Skookum was finished with the passenger run and returned the coaches to the yards at Knapford before heading back out onto the mainline. The sun was sinking lower on the horizon, and in another half hour it would be completely dark. Skookum was looking forward to returning to the shed, but another pressing need had to be taken care of first. 

Down the track aways was Cronk, where they usual stopped to refuel at the fueling station. This time, though, the tanks at the station were empty. Skookum’s driver stopped and climbed out of the cab. “I’m going to go see if I can find anyone who knows where the oil trucks are. Be back in a minute.”

Skookum sighed and settled lower on their axles. That had been an unforeseen complication in coming to Sodor. Unlike the majority of the steamers on the island, the black streamliner was oil fired. While there were plenty of coal hoppers and water towers scattered about the island, there were fairly few refueling stations outside of Vicarstown for the denizens of the island that ran on oil. 

The driver returned a few minutes later, noticeably disgruntled. “The oil train was delayed. You’ll have to wait here until tomorrow morning when it comes in. I don’t think you’ve got enough fuel left to get back to Tidmouth.”

Had their tank really gotten that low? Skookum frowned, not particularly looking forward to sleeping on a siding at the Cronk fueling station, but apparently there wasn’t much choice. “Okay, Driver. Tomorrow morning?”

“First thing. I swear.” The Driver patted Skookum’s cab and went about preparing the engine for the night. 

 

It was pitch black on the Island of Sodor as Henry the Green engine rolled out of Tidmouth sheds on his normal run to pick up the Flying Kipper from Brendam docks. The moon was well hidden behind a thick cloud cover, and the lights of the railyards provided only a weak yellow glow against the dark. Normally this was just the perfect environment to create a worried, panicked Henry, but that night the green engine was more than a little distracted. 

He had spent all evening with Gordon, trying to calm down the blue engine and hopefully keep him from going out and throttling someone. It was such a stupid, petty thing, but Henry couldn’t just come out and tell Gordon he was being an idiot. Hopefully, a little sleep would help him settle down. 

Then there was the fact that Skookum hadn’t returned to the shed that evening. Henry sincerely hoped that the black streamliner wasn’t avoiding the sheds due to Gordon, and had just gotten delayed somewhere. He never had gotten a chance to thank the other engine for taking his passenger run that day. 

At Brendam docks everything went well, and Henry actually pulled out early with the Kipper and headed back onto the mainline. Despite the darkness and occasional creepy happening, Henry actually liked taking the early morning fish train. At this time of the morning no one else was out on the rails, except sometimes Percy with his mail run. Signal lights were all green, no reason to stop anywhere but at scheduled stations. 

Cronk was one of the many stations that Henry normally bypassed, rolling through on his way to Barrow on the mainland. As he passed through the station, Henry glanced over at the platform in time to see a figure slip out of the small office there. Who would be at the station at that time of the morning except. .. the thief!

Immediately, Henry slammed on his brakes. A voice recognizable as the stationmaster called out “Stop that man!” but it was too late. The weight of the trucks behind him greatly increased Henry’s stopping distance, and by the time he managed to come to a full halt the thief had vanished. 

Ted, Henry’s driver, jumped down onto the platform and ran over to Kevin Volley, the elderly stationmaster. “What happened?”

“Couldn’t sleep and decided to get in to the office early to get some things done,” Mr. Volley explained, “Stepped out to make a cup a’ tea and musta surprised the thief, cause he took off like a shot. Then I hear you all a’ coming.”

And just a moment too late. Ted sighed. “Did you see who it was, at least?”

“A yep. Dinnae know the man, but I could pick ‘em out if I saw him again.” Mr. Volley was confident of that at least. “Gonna give Sir Topham a call once the sun is up.”

“Alright.” Ted hesitated as he made to climb back into Henry’s cab, “Do you want someone to stay with you, or anything?”

“Pah,” Mr. Volley waved his hand, “I don’t think that thief will be back tonight. You get on with that train, before it starts to smell.”

The engine driver obliged and soon Henry was pulling out of the station. He had barely gotten up to speed, though, when a roaring whistle sounded behind him. 

“Skookum?!” Henry exclaimed in surprise, because who else could it be? The whistle sounded again, much closer, and a black steam engine flew past Henry pulling several dark coaches. The train was going more than double Henry’s speed, too fast to be more than a blur of black paint and a strange glowing red light emitting from the windows. 

As the train raced off into the night, the tone of the whistle changed from a threatening roar to a mournful cry. It left Henry shaken as he continued on down the main line. “What was that?”

His crew was equally disturbed by the event, looking off down the tracks with equal parts confusion and fear.

“Skookum?” Ted guessed. At least, he hoped that was the answer. There was no other black engine on the island capable of moving at those speeds. But why would the streamliner be pulling coaches this early in the morning?

“I hope you’re right.” Henry muttered. He didn’t want to think about the alternatives. 


	5. Chapter 5

A few miles from the platform at Cronk, Skookum sat sleeping quietly at the fuel station. It wasn’t entirely pleasant to be sleeping outside, but Skookum was fairly used to such things and had managed to doze off a few hours previous. A clatter off at the edge of the yard immediately brought the black streamliner back to full awareness, though, ready and alert for potential graffiti artists or other ne’er do wells. 

What Skookum never expected to see, though, was a familiar face. Steam engine and human stared at each other in shock for a few moments, the man finding his voice first. 

“Skookum? What are you doing in Britain?” The human stood on the edge of a pool of light, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but the voice only confirmed his identity.

“Fireman?” Skookum was greatly confused. They hadn’t seen the man standing before them in almost ten years, since before their retirement from American rails. “What are –you- doing here?”

“Just here for some. . . business oppurtunities.” The man glanced around again, peering into the darkness around the yard. “Look. How about this be our little secret, hmm? For old time’s sake?” And with that, he melted into the shadows and was gone. 

Though it was several more hours until sunrise, Skookum couldn’t find sleep again. The encounter had disturbed the steamer on some deep level, though they didn’t quite understand why. There was something about that particular fireman that bothered Skookum, but the streamliner had been served by a great number of human crew over their life and couldn’t remember just was it was about this one fireman that made him different. 

Eventually, dawn came and with it the delayed fuel delivery. Skookum’s current driver and fireman arrived to refuel the engine and light their fire to get ready for the day. Skookum considered telling the crew about their strange late-night encounter, but it all seemed so dreamlike here in the morning light they decided against it. 

With steam up in their boiler, Skookum headed down the mainline towards Wellsworth to pick up their coaches. There were still a few days left helping Edward on his branch line before the new express was ready to go into service. 

Arriving at the yard at Wellsworth, Skookum hooted a greeting at Edward, who was already there marshalling his goods train. 

The blue engine jumped in surprise, “Skookum! What happened last night? You didn’t come back to Tidmouth.”

“Oh.” With the way gossip travelled here, Skookum had assumed everyone would know by now. Clearly they didn’t. “I ran out of fuel and the oil trucks were delayed, so I spent the night at the refueling station at Cronk.”

“Oil?” Edward was a bit confused, not seeing quite how the large steam engine and oil trucks were connected. 

“Ah-ha. I’m oil fired. And I ran out of fuel last night, so I couldn’t get back to Tidmouth.” 

“Oil fired?” Edward was surprised indeed. He had, like everyone else, assumed the black streamliner was a coal burner, despite never actually having seen the other engine visit a coal hopper. 

“Who’s oil fired?” A third voice joined the conversation as Henry rolled into the yard pulling a short line of empty trucks. 

“I am.” It was like they’d never seen an oil fired engine before, or something. Back home a good percentage of steam locomotives burned oil, due to the poor quality of coal available in the Pacific Northwest. Skookum had been converted from coal burning when they were rebuilt into a streamliner, it was the only way to be able to be able to make a fast passenger run over the mountains. “Don’t you have oil burning engines here?”

“Well, not really. The only other oil burner on the island is Timothy, who works up at the China Clay Pits. But he very rarely leaves.” Despite the clay pits being at the end of his branch line, Edward had only occasionally interacted with Timothy. The little blue engine was just always busy working. 

“Oh!” Leaving the subject of fuel for the moment, Henry had remembered why he wanted to talk to Skookum, “You really gave me a fright on the rails last night, Skookum. What were you doing out so late?”

“Out late?” Skookum’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I wasn’t out late. I ran out of fuel around sundown and spent the night at Cronk.”

` “Well, wasn’t it you who passed me right around Cronk station while I was pulling the Kipper last night?” Henry had really hoped there was a simple answer behind his encounter.

“Wake? I mean, no? I didn’t move until sunup this morning.”

“Did you see something last night, Henry?” Edward asked with concern.

“I saw the thief. He tried to rob the station at Cronk, but the stationmaster scared him off.” Henry recounted his late night adventure. “I pulled out of Cronk when a passenger train blew past me, going even faster than Gordon does with his express. It was being pulled by a black steam engine, and the whistle. Well, it sounded kind of like yours, Skookum. Not exactly, but close.”

“Couldn’t have been me, though.” Skookum was pretty damn confident that they had spent the entire night at the refueling station. Unless they’d somehow sleep-driven without any oil in their tank.

“Wait, you saw the thief?” Edward interrupted, “What did he look like?”

“I didn’t get a good look.” Henry admitted, “But the stationmaster did. I think he was going to try and identify him for the Fat Controller.”

“Well, that’s good at least.” Few things were more important right now than catching the thief who had shot the Wellsworth stationmaster. Edward sighed and coupled to his goods train, heading out of the yard. “I’ll talk to you two later then.”

“Bye.” Henry left his trucks on a siding and departed as well, thinking heavily about the night previous. 

Now alone, Skookum gathered their coaches and headed over to the station. This had gone from intriguing mystery to somewhat concerning. Was there an engine out there impersonating them?

 

Meanwhile, Sir Topham Hatt was feeling hopeful that maybe this whole debacle would soon be over. A sketch artist had been brought in to draw the man Mr. Volley had seen the night before, and they finally had a picture to give out of the thief that had been plaguing Sodor. The sketch would appear in the evening newspapers across the island that evening, and would also broadcast on the local news. Hopefully, someone would recognize the man and know who he was. 

He could also show the sketch to the engines, to better keep an eye out if they happened to see something at a station. 

With that taken care of, Sir Topham moved on to the next issue on his desk. This was a hand written, short letter from one of the engine drivers about the lack of refueling stations for oil-driven engines on the west side of the island. Of course, he had almost forgotten that Skookum was oil fired and would need a refueling station. 

Deciding that the island could really use more fuel stations anyway, to increase the range of the diesel engines owned by the railway if nothing else, Sir Topham wrote up a proposal to install one at Knapford and another at Tidmouth. If it was approved, the railway could hopefully get it all finished within the month. 

Until then, he would have to remember to have a few oil trucks kept near Tidmouth for Skookum so the poor engine wouldn’t have to go all the way to Cronk. 

 

That evening, after the engines had all returned to the sheds, Sir Topham arrived with a blown-up version of the police sketch that had been made of the thief. It had taken a little while to find a print shop that could reproduce the sketch in the necessary size, but he wanted to make sure all the engines would be able to see the image. 

“Now, as I’m sure you’ve all heard, last night there was an aborted attempt at breaking into the station at Cronk. Fortunately, the stationmaster was already there and was able to scare off the thief, and also was able to provide a description of the man. Please look at this sketch carefully, and keep an eye out for anyone who looks like this.” Sir Topham had his two assistants unroll the poster, holding up for all the engines to see. 

The engines all looked carefully at the sketch, trying to commit the human face to memory. It probably wouldn’t do a whole lot of good, most of the engines were terrible at telling humans apart, excluding the crews they saw every day, but it couldn’t hurt to have some extra sets of eyes out. 

Then the sketch got down to the other end of the shed and Skookum caught sight of it. The black streamliner gasped, exclaiming “Piahman!” in surprise. 

Everyone turned to stare at the engine, who turned red at the attention. 

“Do you know this person?” Sir Topham ventured. He certainly hadn’t expected any of the engines to recognize the thief, much less the engine who had only been on the island for two weeks. 

Skookum coughed, “Fireman. That’s a picture of my fireman. Or, the person who was my fireman before I was retired, about ten years ago.” Suddenly, the engine remembered the strange encounter they’d had the previous night. “Naika- I think I saw him last night. At the fuel yard at Cronk. He seemed surprised to see me, and asked me not to say anything before leaving again”

“Well.” The Fat Controller was surprised indeed. Though, it did explain how the man had been able to avoid detection for so long, if he had once been a railway employee and knew his way around rail yards. “Do you know his name?”

“No. I don’t remember what it was. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Sir Topham hadn’t expected Skookum to know. Many of the engines couldn’t even name their current firemen, much less one they’d had ten years ago. Now, though, there was something to go on. He just had to call the railroad he’d bought Skookum from and fax them the sketch to see if they could provide a name and some history. “This will help. Thank you.”

After their owner had left, the engines broke out into excited chatter. 

“Your fireman?” James asked incredulously. “I thought you were from America?”

“I am,” Skookum defended, “I haven’t seen him in over ten years. There was . . . some reason he was fired by Northern Pacific. I don’t remember why, something happened. I don’t know how he ended up on the Island.”

“Maybe because you’re in cahoots with him,” Gordon muttered darkly, pride still bruised from the argument the previous morning. 

“Gordon!” Emily exclaimed, shooting the blue engine a dark look. “That’s uncalled for. And besides, the thefts started before Skookum even got here.”

“Hmph.” Gordon seemed to realize that what he had said was over the line, but wasn’t about to apologize. 

Frowning, Skookum moved over to their human form and left the shed. They needed to get away from all the conversation and speculation for a little while. To sit and concentrate to try and remember whatever it was that had been nagging at the back of their mind all day. 

“Arrrgh, naika kopet kumtux!” Skookum pressed hands to their eyes. “Kahtah wake naika tumtum?”

“Care to repeat that?” A soft voice interrupted the black streamliner’s thoughts, and they looked up to see Edward standing next to them. The blue engine smiled gently and sat down against the wall of the shed. 

“Oh, hello Edward.” Skookum sighed, both irritated at being bothered and somewhat glad that someone actually cared enough to come and make sure they were alright. “Just. Frustrated. There’s something I can’t remember. My memory was damaged when I was rebuilt, and has been spotty ever since. Some things I can recall perfectly clear, others are just a blur.”

Edward was, as always, sympathetic. James suffered from similar trouble, having lost memory of his entire life before his rebuild. “Well, sometimes talking helps. What do you remember?”

“Well, I worked with this fireman after I was taken off the North Coast Limited.” Skookum tipped their head back in thought, trying to sort through memories of the many different human crews they’d had in their life. “So, I was doing freight runs. My driver, I’d been with him for a long time. But fireman was new. Transferred from another engine who’d been scrapped. He and driver fought sometimes. About. . .something. I don’t remember.”

“So what happened to him?” Edward prompted, seeing that the other engine was getting stuck again.

“Northern Pacific fired him. I can remember that, because he threw a wrench across the shed and dented my cab. He was really angry.” Come to think of it, the man did have a temper. Skookum could remember it a bit clearer now, shuffling around memories like files in a file folder trying to draw up relevant ones. Arguments between the driver and fireman, threatening and beating up bums found riding in the freight cars , how sometimes Skookum would see him doing something and the man would ask that it be ‘their little secret.’ “I think maybe he had been stealing something? And sometimes he got really rough with hobos hitching with the train.”

“Well, he sounds like a very unpleasant person. I wonder how he ended up on Sodor.” Edward didn’t like the sound of this ex-fireman at all. Especially since he was apparently armed and very dangerous. The Cronk stationmaster was lucky he hadn’t gotten shot like had happened at Wellsworth.

“Maybe the same way I did.” Skookum mused. “This is the only functioning steam railway around. I remember that he didn’t like diesels much, always preferred working with a steamer. Maybe he came here for that.”

“Maybe.” Edward agreed. There was another subject he needed to address though. “Look, I’m sorry about Gordon. He didn’t have any right accusing you like that.”

Skookum gave the older steamer a wan smile. “Don’t worry. It’s not the first time someone’s hated me. I’m a bit worried about everyone else though. Because apparently there’s an engine out there who looks and sounds kind of like me that’s been scaring people. Not exactly great for my reputation.”

Edward wanted to reassure them, but even he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. What was the more likely explanation, that there was some mysterious engine that no one ever saw except at night, or that it was a real-life engine going out at night for some secret reason? Maybe the fireman-thief had been stealing Skookum at night. Engines were certainly capable of being operated by human crews while asleep. But surely the black streamliner would’ve noticed something.


	6. Chapter 6

Copies of the police sketch were all over the island, but so far Sir Topham hadn’t had any responses. Apparently, the only person who recognized the man was Skookum, who of course didn’t know the man’s name or where he could be hiding out. 

The lead about the man being a former Northern Pacific employee was a little more promising. Unfortunately, the railroad had been merged into Burlington Northern a few years before and that made it a little more difficult to get info when all he knew about the man was the name of the engine he had fired with ten years previous. 

It took until the next day for someone from Burlington Northern to respond to him, during which time there had been yet another robbery. The thief was getting bolder, but at last Sir Topham finally had a name to put to the face. Michael Thornton. The man had apparently worked for the railroad for several years before being fired. He had been discovered stealing valuables on passenger trains, but the final straw had been when he killed a hobo hitching a ride in a boxcar with a lead pipe. 

By all accounts the man should be in jail, but had somehow avoided arrest and fled the country. No one had heard from him in over a decade, until now. 

Presumably, the man also had something to do with the new engine that kept appearing randomly at night as well. It always seemed to show up just after a robbery, near the scene of the crime. Some of the late-shift signalmen had reported seeing an unscheduled passenger run, as had a few other railway workers. But in every case, the train was simply moving too fast to see any details about the engine other than it was black, and steam powered. This pointed to only one engine, but Skookum was quite adamant that they were spending the nights in the sheds, not out racing on the rails. And even if it was Skookum, where in the world was the steamer getting black coaches? There weren’t any of that color on the island. 

It was all congealing into one big frustrating mess. Between the thefts, the shooting, and this strange ‘midnight express,’ the Northwestern Railway was seeing more chaos than it had in many years. 

 

Next on the list was other, more routine paperwork. Schedules had to be ironed out, trains assigned to their engines, and timetables neatened up. Henry had to take a slow goods train to the mainland for Hiro, who was laid up in the shop with a blocked flue, which meant that he would be gone overnight and someone else would be needed to take the Flying Kipper. 

Usually that meant James, despite how much he knew the red engine absolutely hated the task. There was, however, another alternative. Skookum was certainly strong enough to pull the train, and apparently didn’t take umption when asked to pull trucks the way most passenger engines did. The bonus was that if the black streamliner was taking a goods train, then they couldn’t possibly be out with the Midnight Express. 

 

In the wee hours of the morning at Brendam docks, Porter was keeping himself busy by shunting trucks into place for the Flying Kipper while Cranky lowered down crates of fish from the fleet of fishing vessels moored up to the seawall. He had heard that Henry was out of town, which meant a golden opportunity to tease James. One could never have too many. 

The sound of distant chuffing announced the arrival of a steam engine, but the whistle that drifted across the docks certainly didn’t belong to James. It barely sounded like a whistle at all, more of a distant roaring. 

There was a loud thunk as Cranky abruptly dropped the pallet he was carrying, fortunately not spilling any of the fish, and even Porter looked to the north with some worry. A bright light lit up the tracks, the chuffing became louder, and finally an enormous black shape rounded the bend into the docks. 

“Skookum, what are you doing here?” Porter asked in surprise. “You aren’t here to take the Flying Kipper, are you?”

“Nawitka. I got the order this afternoon,” Skookum frowned as they looked over the tracks, trying to figure out the best way to turn around and back down on the train. “I guess Henry is gone and James didn’t want to take the train?”

“James never wants to take the Flying Kipper.” Porter chuckled. “Says the train is cursed. He tends to have accidents when he takes it.”

“Well, I certainly hope that’s James just imagining things.” Skookum grinned as their driver climbed down from the cab to switch a set of points so the streamliner could move over to another line. 

“As long as you be careful and pay attention, it’ll be fine.” Cranky lowered down the last of the fish with a frown. “James is a reckless idiot when he has to do something he doesn’t like.”

It took a bit of effort to get around to the front of the train, but Skookum managed it and was coupled up. “I’ll keep it in mind. Mahsie, kloshe polaklie.”

“Uh. Good night?” Porter responded, hoping he’d guessed right, as the other engine pulled out of the docks with the train. 

 

Skookum enjoyed running at night, when the sounds of human industry quieted and the forests came alive. Things were quiet, aside from the chuffing of Skookum’s own systems and the click clack of the lines of trucks strung along behind them. 

Stations were small oasis of light on the dark tracks, where workers unloaded fish from the trucks with quiet efficiency. It seemed a crime to make noise in the early morning silence, Skookum even refrained from using their whistle except softly coming into the stations. 

The run was going well until they approached Crovan’s Gate. The hum and clank of machinery was normal, as some things at the Steamworks continued through the night, but then a pair of sharp bangs cracked the silence of the night. Gunshots. 

Skookum immediately applied the brakes and screeched to a halt just beyond the station platform, looking around anxiously for any sign of their old fireman/thief. But there was nothing in sight, somehow he had vanished again. 

Skookum’s driver hopped drown from the cab and ran back to the station to call the police, while the fireman stayed behind anxiously. Suddenly, the rails beneath the engine’s wheels trembled and a loud whistle filled the station. Bright white light shone brilliantly in the distance, and soon the source behind it came into view. There was a high speed passenger engine thundering down the same track Skookum sat on, and showed no signs of slowing. 

“Whoa, whoa whoa!” Skookum quickly shifted into reverse, but couldn’t get up any kind of speed while pushing the heavy, fish-laden trucks behind them. 

The other train didn’t adjust it’s speed at all, the roaring whistle and bright headlight overwhelming all other senses. Skookum shut their eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact, but it didn’t come. Instead, it was like cold water had been dumped into their firebox, a chill that sucked the very warmth from their boiler. Skookum’s eyes flew back open in time to catch sight of the inside of a finely upholstered coach, shadowy shapes filling the benches, before the vision was gone. 

Another whistle split the night, a mournful wail that echoed around the yard before that, too, dissipated. 

“Ghost train.” Skookum whispered in awe. Their fireman poked his head out of the cab, wide eyed and in shock from the apparition that had just passed through them both. 

The moment was broken when Skookum’s driver ran back out of the station, “What was that?!”

“To be honest, Pete, I got no clue.” The fireman mopped at his face with a neckerchief, climbing down from the cab to sit down heavily on the edge of the station platform. 

“It was the Midnight Express.” Skookum stated, things suddenly starting to make sense. “It’s a ghost train. The Midnight Express is a ghost train, that’s why no one has seen it during the daylight and can’t find where it goes.”

“Wait, so we don’t just have a thief, we have a ghost?” The fireman pressed his face into his hands, wishing it were morning. 

“We also have a murder.” The driver said grimly, taking a seat as well. “There was a police officer at the station, presumably trying to catch the thief, and he’s dead. Shot.”

Engine and crew remained there at the station until the police arrived to take their statements and tape off the crime scene. Both men wisely left the ghost train out of their stories, and Skookum followed suit. It was morning before they were allowed to leave, finishing the fish delivery before returning to Tidmouth. 

Upon arrival, the black engine was immediately the center of attention. Enough word had travelled about there being some kind of incident, but a first person source was infinitely better when it came to gossip. 

“So what happened last night?” Emily pressed as Skookum pulled up alongside a pair of oil trucks to refuel. 

“I saw the Midnight Express.” Skookum stated, still a mix of excitement and fear from the encounter. “It’s a ghost train. I saw it coming towards me on the same track, and I couldn’t get away, but then it passed right through me! I think it’s chasing the thief.”

“A ghost?” The shed chorused incredulously. 

“Wait, so all this time, the monster was a ghost?” Percy wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more terrified. 

“I knew it!” James crowed, giving Edward a triumphant look. 

The blue engine wasn’t so sure. “Are you certain that’s what you saw? It couldn’t have been anything else?”

“It passed right through me.” Skookum repeated, shuddering just at the memory. “It was like I’d been dunked in freezing water.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Gordon commented with a roll of his eyes. The big engine seemed disgusted at the very thought. “I think you’re just lying.”

Henry looked at his partner in surprise, “But I’ve seen and heard it too! So has Percy.”

“Or all you were seeing was Skookum, out helping the thief.” Gordon looked over at the black streamliner filling up their tender with oil suspiciously. “You can never trust a diesel. Or a steamer trying to be a diesel.”

“I’m no liar. Or a thief,” Of all the reasons for an engine to hate them, and this was over their fuel source? “And I’m not a diesel either. Where I’m from, half the engines I know are oil burners. Just because you all burn coal-“

“Stop it!” Little Percy cried, having had enough of the arguing. “Both of you!”

“Percy is right,” Edward agreed. “This is no time for arguing. Disregarding this ghost business, there is a thief and murderer on the island. And I think it’s time he was brought to justice before anyone else is killed.”

“I agree with Edward.” Emily put forward her support. “We should form a patrol. The thief can’t get away if all of us are out there looking for him.”

“We should all go out tonight,” James suggested, “Tell everyone. We’ll catch this thief!”

 

Word spread quickly across the island, engines agreeing to go out to their nearest stations that evening to keep a watchful eye out for the thief. Between them, every station would have at least one engine on watch. 

As night fell, the engines of Tidmouth headed out in pairs. Henry and Gordon of course went together to look after Knapford, with the blue engine grumbling all the way, while Emily and Percy left to see to Tidmouth. Edward was about to head to Wellsworth with James, when he realized someone had been left out. 

“Skookum, why don’t you come with us?” Edward suggested. He didn’t want to leave the black engine alone, just in case they did have something to do with the whole mess, and the others had already left. 

“You sure?” Skookum left their stall and waited for the turntable to spin their way. “Not worried I’ll pull a fast one on you?”

“Gordon’s a jerk.” James advised. “He’s kind of an asshole to everyone.”

This wasn’t terribly reassuring, but Skookum wasn’t about to turn down the invitation. They did feel a bit guilty that it was their old fireman hurting people, and wanted to do their bit to make things right. 

The trio made their way slowly to Wellsworth, trying not to make an excess of noise that would tip others off to their plans. It didn’t really work, given that all three were steam engines and made a necessary amount of noise just moving, but it was the thought that counts. 

The difficult thing about catching the thief was how unpredictable he was. There was no pattern to the stations he hit, some having been broken into multiple times while others left untouched, and while the thefts always occurred at night they always happened at different times. 

There wasn’t any indication he might come back to Wellsworth, but with every station on the island having at least one guard everyone had an equal chance of seeing the thief. Assuming he came out that night at all. 

Hiding a steam engine was no easy task, but they tried their best. James, with his bright red paint, went to the yard behind the waiting platform and out of sight. Edward and Skookum, with more subdued paint, hid on either side of the station just beyond the reach of the soft yellow lights. 

Now, there was nothing to do but sit and wait. Firemen let the fires burn low, keeping enough steam in the boiler for a sudden burst of movement but not enough to blow any safety valves, while drivers climbed down from their cabs and quietly kept watch around their engines. 

Hours passed in silence, with no movement aside from the usual night time critters around the station. Edward was beginning to think this was a waste of time when his driver suddenly let out a soft hiss. 

“Driver?” Edward whispered quietly. He couldn’t see anything, but then again he was half blind and didn’t see well at night anyway. 

“Something’s moving,” His driver, Charlie, peered into the night for another moment before climbing up into the cab. “I think there’s someone at the station. Sid, throw some coal on the fire.”

Edward squinted into the night, and now he could just make out a black, human shaped figure on the edge of the platform. With a shrill whistle, Edward suddenly surged forward towards the station, “Stop right there!”

The thief froze and turned to run, only to find Skookum coming up from the other way. James soon joined the party, stopping along an adjacent track, and the engine crews jumped out to surround the man dressed all in black. 

“Michael Thornton?” Charlie guessed. “This is the end for you, put your hands up. Rick, go into the station and call the cops, tell them we’ve got the thief.”

James’ driver complied and ran in to phone the local police while the others stayed put. Thornton frowned and raised his hands up, glaring at the five men surrounding him. Then he turned to look at the engine sitting behind him. 

“Never thought it would be you to give me up, Skookum. Didn’t we have a good time together all those years ago?” A slightly mad grin stretched across the man’s face. “Remember when you caught me killin’ that hobo with a pipe? Never said anything about that, didja? You were such a good engine back then.”

Skookum gasped, the memory suddenly coming back. Of their fireman, standing off the track in the bushes with a bloody pipe in hand, a body barely visible lying at their feet. The engine hadn’t really understood what had happened, but when the human said “let’s keep this our little secret, hmm?” the engine complied. Like any good engine would when asked of something by their crew. 

“You killed that man!” The black engine exclaimed, “Just like you killed the police officer at Croven’s Gate last night. Why?”

Thornton shrugged, “They got in my way.” He looked once more between the three engines, eyes shrewd and calculating. Suddenly, he moved, grabbing a surprised Charlie by the arm and pressing his gun to the other man’s cheek. “And the same will happen to him if you try to follow me.”

Keeping Charlie’s arm twisted behind his back and the gun against his face, Thornton slowly stepped back. Fond as he was of Skookum, there were several men between the engine and him. And besides, the little blue engine was closer. 

Before anyone could stop him Thornton jumped into Edward’s cab, dragging a surprised Charlie with him, and slapped the blue engine’s lockout switch. Abruptly rendered unable to control his body, Edward could only cry out in surprise as he suddenly found himself flying backward down the mainline. 

“Edward!”


	7. Chapter 7

“Edward!” 

James gave a cry, but could not risk running off down the track after his partner with no crew. His fire would run low before he even got up to speed. 

“Charlie!” Sidney, Edward’s fireman, didn’t hesitate before jumping up into James’ cab. The red engine’s fireman followed, barely making it before James started moving. 

“What happened?” Rick came out of the station just in time to his engine set off down the track with a roar of fury. He had successfully called the police, only to come back outside to find no Thornton and no Edward. “Where’d they go?”

“We were idiots and forgot to grab his gun is what happened.” Skookum’s driver Pete growled in frustration. “He’s kidnapped Charlie and Edward and set off for who knows where. James has gone after them.”

“Well, we have to follow them! Skookum’s faster than them both combined.”

“Wait, I have a different idea.” Skookum could hear something in the distance, something very familiar. “Jump in my cab, we have an express to catch.”

 

In Edward’s cab, Charlie had been commanded to shovel coal furiously into the roaring firebox. Steam was up at astronomical levels, and the engine driver was sure that Edward hadn’t been spurred to run this fast since he was built. It wasn’t a safe speed by any means, but then again he wasn’t the one in charge.

Thornton kept the gun trained in Charlie’s direction even as he kept an eye on the gauges. He didn’t particularly care to watch the tracks, he knew this was the mainline and that currently the points should all be set for the next scheduled train. That being the Flying Kipper, which continued on all the way to the mainland and that was just where he wanted to go. 

“Edward can’t keep up this pace,” Charlie tried to reason with the other man, “He’s an old engine, he’ll blow something if we don’t slow down.”

“Shut up and keep shoveling!” Thornton demanding, waving the gun insistently. “I fired on steam engines for twenty years, I know what they can and can’t handle.”

‘Well you haven’t fired with this engine.’ Charlie thought nastily even as he continued to shovel. He still worried about Edward, though. 

 

A ways behind them, James panted as he struggled to keep up with the blue engine. The trouble was that, though he and Edward had roughly the same top speed, James had an irksome tendency to derail when running at these kinds of speeds and that meant he was forced to slow down for bends and switches. It also didn’t help that his line kept veering off onto sidings before rejoining the main line. 

They had already passed Maron and Cronk, and it was clear that the thief was intending to continue on all the way to the mainland. They had to catch him before he could leave the island!

 

Charlie Sand couldn’t help but watch Edward’s pressure gauge as it inched its way up, encroaching on dangerous territory. A steam engine’s boiler could only handle so much, and Edward’s was nearing its breaking point. 

They had just entered the Whispering Woods when there was a bang and, with a loud roar, Edward’s safety valve blew. All the steam in the blue engine’s boiler was forced up and out the valve to exhaust in the cold night air and the blue engine slowed to a stop with no steam left to push his pistons. 

“Damn it!” Thornton yelled, barely audible over the escaping steam, and banged a fist against the pressure gauge. Turning, he grabbed Charlie again and dragged the engine driver out of the cab. 

With a whistle, a panting James screeched to a halt upon seeing the scene. He was still on the adjacent line and now sat beside his partner, steam pressing against his safety valve from the exertion. 

“Where’s Skookum?” Edward whispered, pain from the blown safety valve making him cringe. Still, he was surprised to only see James there. 

“Ran off in the other direction,” James gasped between breathes, “Dunno where they went.”

“Don’t come any closer!” Thornton now stood on the track in front of Edward, holding Charlie in a headlock with the gun against his temple. “I’ll shoot him, I swear I will.”

Sidney Hever immediately stopped his advance, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Whoa, chill out. We all just need to chill. Out. You don’t really want to shoot my friend there, do you?”

“Just try me,” Thornton growled, “You want to drag me off to jail, but I’m not going! I can’t live the rest of my life in a little box, I have to be on the rails! You’ll never take me, they’ll never take me!”

“Calm down. Lets’ just caaaalm down.” Sidney’s mind was working even as he tried to exude a friendly vibe. There wouldn’t be anyone coming to the rescue here in the middle of the woods, unless Skookum showed back up. And even then, there wasn’t much they could do with that gun against Charlie’s face like that. One wrong move and the driver would be dead. 

“Don’t you tell me to calm down!” Thornton’s voice was growing more hysterical, “Your engine’s got plenty of coal and water, right? Well, then I’m taking him.”

“James is almost out of coal,” Sidney had shoveled most of James’ tender into the firebox in their quest to catch up the Edward, “I don’t think there’s enough to make it to Croven’s Gate, much less the mainland.”

“You’re lying,” From the way Thornton’s voice quivered, he was trying to convince himself of the fact more than anything else. “You’ve got to be. I have to get away from here.”

“Well-“ 

A whistle cut off whatever Sidney was going to say. Humans and engines looked off down the track, where a pair of bright lights had appeared side by side. One whistle was recognizable as Skookum, but the other was deeper. More menacing. 

Thornton blanched white, face filling with pure fear. “No. No! You won’t get me, you can’t get me. Stay back, stay back!”

The lights grew closer, black shapes becoming apparent behind them. One was clearly Skookum, running on the third track of the mainline. The other was larger, coming down on the same line Edward sat on at an impressive rate of speed.

There was a screech of brakes as sparks shot from Skookum’s wheels, but the other engine didn’t slow. 

“No, no!” Thornton couldn’t move; fear seemed to have frozen him in place in the middle of the tracks. Charlie was still trapped in his grasp, unable to escape. The engine driver closed his eyes, waiting for his inevitable death either by gunshot or speeding train as the Midnight Express bore down on them. 

“Edward!” James, however, couldn’t close his eyes or look away. That train was coming right at his partner, and outmassed the blue engine by several tons! If it hit, Edward would be obliterated. But the blue engine was still locked out of his own body, not to mention out of steam. There was nothing he could do. 

The Midnight Express slammed into the humans and engine on its track, but the expected scream of tangled metal didn’t come. Instead, the train passed right through them, obscuring them from view for several long moments. James got a snapshot glimpse of a face staring at him from one of the coaches windows, featureless and blank, before the last coach cleared Edward’s tender and the train suddenly vanished. Gone, just like that, with no sign it had ever been. 

Except that Charlie now stood alone on the tracks. Thornton had disappeared without a trace. 

“Are you alright?” Skookum asked after several moments of silence. Hopefully, they hadn’t been too late. 

“What was that?!” Charlie exclaimed, amazed he was still alive. 

“The ghost train, the Midnight Express.” Skookum recalled the story they had been told by Salty. “It roams the rails at night looking for sinners. And when it finds them, it drags their souls to hell. I think it’s been here on the island looking for the thief. He probably left America and came to the island trying to escape it.”

“You were right.” Edward whispered, feeling a bit guilty about not believing the other engines about their sightings. Cold from having the ghost pass through him had chilled him down to his bolts and actually put the fire out in his firebox. “It was a ghost. All this time.”

“I heard the whistle while we were at Wellsworth, just after James ran off. I thought, maybe. If I found the ghost train, I could help bring it here.” Skookum supplied, feeling they should explain why they had run off rather than join the chase. Before, the ghost hadn’t been able to get to the man after a robbery because Thornton never stayed near the railroad tracks. But this time, he would be on the tracks, on the mainline headed for the Vicarstown bridge. “I’m faster than you, Edward, but I knew there wouldn’t be much I could do on my own if he still had the gun and your driver. Sorry it took so long.”

“It’s fine,” Edward managed a shaky smile. “I’m just glad it’s finally over.”

Sidney had gone over to Charlie and was helping the man make his way to Edward’s cab when he voiced the question they all had in the back of their minds. “So, what do we tell the cops?”

 

Fortunately, the Fat Controller hadn’t questioned their sanity when the men told him their story. He didn’t necessarily approve of the night time vigilante attempt, but had seen too much bizarre stuff in his years running the railway to come out and call the ghost story bullshit. 

There wasn’t a thief to give to the police, or even a body, so Sir Topham was left with trying to come up with something that would satisfy the local police. As always, the cleanup was left to him. 

 

On the railway, things slowly calmed down to a semblance of normalcy. Gordon had finally swallowed his pride and, after much urging from Henry, apologized to Skookum. It was a bit mumbled, but the black streamliner was satisfied with even that much. 

The new express service was ready to go, and after a few weeks the island adjusted to the new rhythm. Gordon now started at Tidmouth, while Skookum moved to a shed at Knapford where their train began. Gordon still managed a few half-hearted grumbles about red coaches, but seemed satisfied that his express hadn’t changed appreciably beyond its new color and starting location. Skookum, meanwhile, was enjoying having their new fast train. There was nothing quite like cruising down the rails at speed with a line of coaches behind. The new train was even called the Northwest Limited, and Skookum was happy indeed to be once again pulling a Limited. 

It seemed that new engine was finally settled in, having no trouble making friends now that the stress of the thefts and night monsters was behind them. And if someone heard something strange in the dark, they could rest assured that it was probably just a wandering spirit checking up on the world of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks! Thank you to everyone who left kudos or comments, I'm glad people enjoyed this jaunt of mine. 
> 
> Expect to see more fanfic out of me in the coming weeks, I have a couple of crossover ideas I want to get out of my head. Until next time!


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